by MK Moore
Copyright
Madame President
By MK Moore
© MK Moore 2018 Flirty Filth Publishing.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be, seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
ASIN:
Cover created by Dark Water Covers
Dedication
This story is dedicated to ChaShiree. Thank you for being so supportive from the moment I mentioned the idea for this story!
Also dedicated to CM and Morgan. I am already into Crystal’s story and I can’t wait for you guys to read it!
Chapter One
Trista
Twelve hours ago, I was informed my father died. I was not given any details on what happened, but I am on my way home. As his only child, the running of Norlyn falls to me. You see, my father Tristan Armstrong is the president for life in my country. My mother, Irena died when I was five and he never remarried. I asked him why once and he told me, when you fall in love one day, you’ll know why.
I had been at the UN General Assembly, as Norlyn’s 3rd highest diplomat. At the gathering, I was proud to represent our small but mighty nation in a peace conference. I was just about to give a speech when I received the news about my father. While I am sitting on the plane, trying to do anything but think about my loss, I realize how alone I am in the world.
Being only twenty-five years old, there is not a large time frame to look back over and contemplate the existence of one’s life. My life can be summarized, as a person who did everything they were told and what was and is expected of me. I had the best tutors, expensive clothes, and an American college experience at Brown.
Unfortunately, I always felt as if something was missing in my life. The something, I would realize, is companionship. I had always kept to myself because most people would assume I am a stuck-up princess. Technically I am a princess, but we do not use the label.
Men are non-existent to me, unless they are fellow dignitaries, where I earned my spot in the diplomatic corp. The good grades and hard work I put in daily, finally paid off and I was able to land the position. There are a couple bodyguards on the commercial flight I am on, because my pilot’s appendix burst yesterday. I was scheduled to stay in New York for a month and assumed I had plenty of time. Time for lots of things.
On the outside, I think I have shown to be handling the news extremely well. Inside is another matter altogether, I am falling apart. My father is the most important person in my life, and I am blindsided by this. The news has thrown me into another reality because he was only fifty. He was way too young to die and leave me an orphan. Can a grown ass woman be an orphan? My mind is in turmoil, but I cannot let it show. I must be brave because I now have a whole country to figure out how to run.
President for life is an inherited position and as soon as I land, I am it. Norlyn population is approximately 50,000 inhabitants, but we are rich in natural resources and have a huge forestry trade. We are nestled in the mountains near France, but English is our native tongue. Being colonized by the British is what was needed to bring us out of the Dark Ages; and Are still our closest allies. Our peaceful declaration of independence in 1899 is what brought my family to rule. There are no individual cities because Norlyn is broken up into directional provinces.
When there is twenty minutes of flight time left, I go to the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup. I was taught your personal appearance is important, no matter what is happening around you. The world around you will never know your thoughts and feelings, unless you choose to show them.
As I buckle myself into my seat, feelings of insecurity start to spread through me. How am I going to do this? Not only am I alone in the world, but I am the first female president for life. Surely the boys club in parliament will have an issue with me being in charge, especially at such a young age.
I lean my head back and close my eyes as we make our final descent. Being roughly twenty square miles, we have only the one airport. Named after my grandfather, the Tyson Armstrong International Airport is abuzz with activity. After we land, the flight attendant informs me I will have to deplane on the tarmac for security reasons.
When the door opens, and I climb down the stairs, I see the bulletproof town car my father always used and standing next to it is Gavin Williams. He is my father’s lead protective agent for the last five years. Was my father’s lead protective agent? Will I ever get used to my father not being here?
The man has been in my dreams for five years now and if I am truthful, longer even. He was on my detail at Brown for the first two weeks after I first got there. Then suddenly, he was gone. I later learned, he had requested a transfer because he didn’t want to protect me. Harsh, right? I hate that he will not have much of a choice now and I do not want to force him to protect me.
Over the years, when I was at home and he was always there, I got to know him. My knowledge of the different kinds of stalker-rific things about him are immense. This is going to be hard for me. Carmen, who was his replacement, and I didn’t get along. She only lasted about a month.
After she was replaced the only person I would talk to is my personal secretary, Crystal who attended Brown with me. Even though she is only a few months older than me, she took control of coordinating the security detail. Crystal and our dorm mate Leslie are the only friends I have ever had. Crystal has a Political Science degree she has no desire to use, other than helping me. I love the woman, but I must wonder if I am only a job for her.
“Madame President. Welcome home. I am so sorry for your loss.” Gavin’s thick and sexy voice sends a shiver through me. Being addressed as such for the first time, like that brings it home for me.
“What happened to him?” I ask, my breath hitching.
“A heart attack in his sleep.” He says somberly.
I am glad he didn’t suffer, but I am suddenly very happy no one else is here because I break down in tears. My hands immediately go to my mouth, as I stand there in shock because I am breaking down in public. Gavin’s arms are immediately surrounding me and pulling me in close to his body. My arms get trapped in between our bodies as he holds me. It is a little uncomfortable but the feeling of being in his arms outweighs the discomfort.
“Ma’am?” I am unable to respond because my tears are cloying and thick, causing me to sob and sob into the crook of his neck. You know it is the kind of crying that leaves snot, red eyes, and a sore throat behind. The ‘sexiest’ of all cries.
His hand is soothing, moving up and down my back. This is the first time I have been in a man’s arms and it feels wonderful. Safe.
“Ma’am?” He tries again.
“Trista,” he says firmly as he grips my shoulders a
nd shakes me gently. That gets my attention, since no one has called me that in a long time. My father always calls me Sunshine and to the rest of the world I am Ms. Armstrong. I lift my head and look into his eyes.
“You can do this. You are a strong, smart, beautiful and kind woman.” How did he know? And how did he know I needed those words? Beautiful? That is not something I’ve been accused of being before.
Maybe I can do this, but it doesn’t dry the tears. He puts his hand on my back and opens the back door of the car to help me into it. I assumed he was driving, but to my surprise he gets in the back with me. Through the open partition, I see Gus our driver. Gus is seventy if he’s a day.
“You saw nothing.” Gavin says to him, smiling.
“I saw nothing, sir.” Gus says smiling. “Let’s get you home ma’am.” When Gavin leans over and buckles my seatbelt for me, I must bite my lip. Reaching for my face, I wipe away the coating of tears and mascara, but it doesn’t help.
Gavin hands me his handkerchief and I try to give him a smile. Why is he is being sweet to me? I was under the impression he hates me, and it is confusing. He stares at me while I pull my compact out of my purse and sigh as I see my face. My eyes look like a raccoon’s and my cheeks are blotchy from crying. I try again to repair the damage.
“Do I look okay? I am sure the press is at the house.” I say, turning to him.
He takes the handkerchief back and grabs a water from the little bar area. He wets it and wipes my face. “You look beautiful as always, Ma’am.”
It was kind of him to tell the lie to me, though he didn’t need to. The last place my thoughts need to be right now is thinking about him.
I suddenly realize he has called me beautiful twice in one day and I smile my first genuine smile all day as the car takes off.
Chapter Two
Gavin
Fuck. She is beautiful, and I don’t think she knows it. As fucked up as it is, her sobs are a balm to my soul. Her pretty tears make me feel like a caveman. There is no retribution for the kind of hurt she is feeling, but I know that if there was I’d do whatever it takes to make her feel better.
Seven years ago, I made a rash decision. One I’ve regretted every one of the 2, 558 days since then. It is not as if I am keeping count or anything. Norlyn is a great place to live, but our class system is as brutal as anywhere. I went to public school and I had never met anyone as classy as Trista. Saying or thinking her name makes me hard.
When I was assigned to the protective detail division after the police academy, my first assignment was her. She had been accepted to an American university in Rhode Island. After two weeks of getting to know her, I couldn’t do my job. I wanted to kill any man who got close to her. When a guy cornered her at her first party, I wanted to kill him. I had never been so jealous in my life, making me realize I would not be able to protect her properly. She had put him in his place, but I knew I couldn’t risk her safety.
When I requested the transfer, I never thought I would be placed on the presidential detail. The vice chancellor would have been a better choice. She was a fifty-year-old woman who dealt with education and domestic law. Our country mourned when she died under strange circumstances. I can only imagine the mourning now that the president has died. The dick who fills her position now is James Cornwell. He is thirty-five with about the same number of girlfriends. His kind of lifestyle has never appealed to me.
At the age of thirty, I haven’t been with a woman in over seven years. The minute I met Trista, I knew she was it for me. It was as if lightning had struck and I thought there was no way she didn’t feel it too. No other woman would do, even though it is impossible for her to be mine. There is too much that is separating us.
I don’t have it in me to waste time with a woman who will never be the one for me, not even for a quick fuck. It is embarrassing how many times I’ve fucked my fist thinking about how tight, wet, and pink her pussy is.
Now, I have no choice but to protect her and it will be the hardest thing I have ever done. I’ve seen her from a distance in the main house when she was home on break. After she graduated and started working as a diplomat for her father, I was not prepared for how beautiful she is. The idea of how vulnerable she is, right now is making me crazy.
Sitting next to her in the car, the delicate perfume she is wearing invades my senses. Our hands are resting on the seat between us, with our pinkies barely touching. The small touch sends shockwaves through my own body, as I try to decide how I’m going to do this. I couldn’t keep my emotions in check the first time and this time will be worse.
I have followed her in the news and her official social media from the moment I first returned home. I know I am supposed to be impartial and her first line of defense. If anything, our time together has only succeeded in my obsession growing. Suddenly, I feel her hand on my forearm.
“Hey, I’ve been talking to you for five minutes.”
I had been completely wrapped in my thoughts that I didn’t hear her. Looking down I only see her pale, peach tipped hands resting on my arm and she hasn’t let go. She has always loved that color and it looks amazing on her.
“Sorry, Ma’am. What were you saying?” The day dreaming cannot happen again. I need to keep my mind and eyes clear and cannot afford to be distracted when her safety is at risk.
“We are home.” She says steeling herself, before getting out. I step out first and turn to help her out of the vehicle. The press is hanging out by the door.
“Stay with me?” She asks, her voice small and wavering.
“It’s my job, Ma’am.” God, I sound like an asshole.
“Right, yes of course.” She says, her voice sounds very sad and it kills me. It almost sounds sadder than when she was sobbing in my arms. Surely, it is about the news she received today.
“Trista?” Erica Sterling from NNN calls out. She is a viper and I cannot stand her.
“Ms. Armstrong?” Asks Dan Hodges from the celebrity tabloid, Watchers.
“How are you feeling?” The random shouts from reporters I don’t recognize. It is annoying as hell. I can’t imagine how she is feeling right now.
“Are you in shock?”
“What kind of president are you going to be.”
I try and shield her as they are shouting out questions. The fact they are addressing her incorrectly is pissing me off. She grabs ahold of my arm and doesn’t let go, nor does she answer anything. She is relying on me and it makes me stand taller. I pull her through the crowd and into the foyer of the main house.
“Gavin, I can’t do this without you. Please help me?” The look in her eyes is desperate, searching. That is not the look I want to see there.
“Ma’am. I will help you in any way I can.”
“Trista. Call me Trista, please.” She begs.
“Ma’am. I cannot do that.” I say as I am shaking my head. What I am not prepared for is when she drags me into a closet.
“Gavin. Please. I know you must protect me, but I need some semblance of normal right now. I have no friends and no one I can trust. I feel safe with you.”
“Ma’am. Rest assured, I will protect your life with my own. Always.” Damn, this girl will be the death of me.
“Do I have to order you to call me Trista?” She says, while biting that damn lip. I want that to be my job and am unable to help laughing.
“Yes ma’am.” I say smiling.
“I order you to call me Trista.” She says laughing.
“Yes, Trista.”
“Say it again.” She quietly demands.
“Trista.” My voice is rough, and my cock is hard. Her eyes close, like she is savoring something.
I didn’t expect for her lips to crash onto mine and I release a groan as she moans softly. Instantly, I relish in the feeling of her soft lips under my rougher ones. The softness of her skin is amazing. The back of her blouse and blazer have risen and my fingertips run over the small of her back. She shudders, and I have to pull away from
her. There is no choice.
“Ma’am. This is unprofessional behavior and I apologize.”
“This was not a mistake.” She says, tears threatening again.
“I didn’t say it was a mistake. You did. I said it is unprofessional of me. The kiss could never be a mistake, but it cannot happen again.” I try to rationalize with her.
She shakes her head twice and straightens her shirt.
“Mr. Williams. I am going to go meet with Withers. I am sure he has a lot for me to do today.” She states with a little bit of haughtiness in her voice.
Withers is her father’s personal secretary. He is over nine hundred years old, but at least he gets to retire now.
“I understand. Is Crystal here? I know she didn’t go to New York with you.”
“I’ll worry about my secretary. You just worry about protecting me.” She says with as much bite as she is capable of, which isn’t much. She is too good and pure for the likes of me. With as much dignity as she can muster, she leaves the little closet in a mighty pretty huff. I smile, because her sassy-ness needs some work.
Shit. How can I make this up to her? Without crossing the line again.
This shit just got a whole lot more complicated.
Loving someone you shouldn’t is hard as fuck, much like my cock, which I’m afraid will never soften again.
Chapter Three
Trista
What a dick. I cannot believe my first kiss ended that way. His hatred of me drives me crazy. I am fuming as I make my way from the closet to my father’s office, which I guess is my office now. Outside the door, I meet Withers. He shakes my hand and then pulls me into a light hug. I’ve known this man my entire life.
“Ma’am. Welcome home. I am sorry it is not under better circumstances.”
“Thank you Withers. I know my father had already made his arrangements. Where do we begin? Have you spoken to Crystal?”
